


Hollowing Souls

by FromTheBoundlessSea



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Erebor Never Fell, An is just as nice as she is in DoTaG, Angst, Angst muffins, BAMF Bilbo Baggins, Bilbo Baggins Angst, Briar can’t have kids in this, Dragon Riders, Dragons, Dwobbit Bilbo, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Female Bilbo Baggins, Fíli Feels, Gen, Hurt Bilbo Baggins, I repeat DRAGONS!, LIKE A LOT OF ANGST, Mentions of Forced Breeding, Misunderstandings, Nothing explicit, Others and Ones are different things, Protective Fíli, Slavery, Thorin loves her regardless, Timeline is nonexistent, Young Bilbo Baggins, if anyone didn’t know, ignore the canon timeline of the books, it will not save you!, none of my stuff is ever beta-ed, seriously, talks about infirtility
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2019-12-27 00:00:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18292808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FromTheBoundlessSea/pseuds/FromTheBoundlessSea
Summary: Clover had been a slave her entire life. She has never known anything else. The world Outside is a world she had no hope of ever becoming a part of. The world outside belonged to her parents and those who had been born Outside.But when her master is injured, she is given a chance and a reason to escape the world of darkness that she knew before by a dragon rider she had been assigned to take care of. Her world would never be the same.Eventually plunged into the world of politics and warfare, Clover must find her place while uncovering secrets of the past and hopes for the future.Inspired by ISeeFire’s “Of Dwobbits, Dragons and Dwarves”





	1. From the Mountain I Saw You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ISeeFire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ISeeFire/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Of Dwobbits, Dragons and Dwarves](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1579232) by [ISeeFire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ISeeFire/pseuds/ISeeFire). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the lovely ISeeFire!  
> The story begins a lot like their story “Of Dwobbits, Dragons and Dwarves” but it will start to differentiate next chapter. It starts to by the end as well.  
> There’s also talk of a few darker themes that aren’t mentioned in the story that inspired this one.  
> I hope you all like it!

Her world was on fire.

The air tasted like copper.

Screams of dragons and orcs and dwarrow drummed against the rocks of Moria.

It was chaos.

It was almost beautiful.

Fellbeasts, their ugly naked bodies, were no match for the terrifying might of the dwarrow’s firedrakes. It was almost a dance, their bodies twisting and writing against each other, crushing orcs along the way. She watched as one firedrake snapped its fangs around the neck of one of the younger fellbeasts. The creature made no noise and it fell to the earth, it’s rider screaming in terror.

Clover scrambled from her place on the balcony to watch the beast crash and felt a sickening sense of satisfaction in seeing the dead dragon. She shouldn’t be so happy. From what she knew, fellbeasts were just that, beasts. They were not inherently cruel. Their masters were.

Masters.

She found **him** quickly.

Azog killing dwarf after dwarf and Clover didn’t have to imagine the sneer of triumph he was probably wearing. She could hear his laugh in her head.

**I KNOW YOU WATCH, LITTLE ONE.**

She shuddered and gripped the railing. Clover could see his head turn to look at her. She had been ready for his intrusion. It was less painful this time.

**SHALL I FIND A REPLACEMENT FOR YOU? YOU STILL MOURN THAT HALFING, DON’T YOU?**

He, thankfully, turned his attention back to the battle. Clover’s stomach twisted. She sank to her knees and gripped the bars of the railing, forcing herself to watch. **He** knew she hoped for a certain outcome. Her master would follow through on his threat. He wanted her to give him another fighter for his arena. One who wasn’t tainted by hobbit kindness like she was.

Would he force someone else on her, maybe a prisoner? She could still feel the burn from the last dwarf he had tried to mate her with, even though that had been years ago. She could still remember going to _him_ and _him_ holding her and telling her everything was going to be alright. She could still remember _his_ empty eyes when Azog threw _his_ head at her feet and told her that _he_ would no longer be a distraction.

Caspian… oh, Caspian…

She heard Azog’s roar of triumph as he held the head of a dwarf by the hair. She recognized the dwarf head from the beginning of the battle. He was a general of some kind, she supposed. Azog threw the head down and Clover’s stomach twisted some more. The dwarven army seemed to freeze, screams of anguish began to ripple through the crowd. Clover could hear their cries reverberate in her head, their pain too great to be shielded as they might have been.

A single, dark haired dwarf stood out from the rest and he charged towards Azog. Clover’s breath caught in her throat. Then, the battle converged in itself and she could see no more.

She looked up to the sky, noon. Even with the sky full of ash, she could still see the shadowed light of the sun. There was no reason to hope. The orcs were too powerful. She had other things she had to do.

She left Azog’s private chambers, where he had her sleep in the corner like an animal, and began to head down to the lower levels. The air tasted of ash there. Of ash and dirt and sweat. Even with the battle going on, they made the slaves work. They wanted the mithril of the mountain. They wanted to find its heart. They hoped the veins would lead them to the heart.

Clover wondered what would happen to them once their masters claimed their prize.

The other slaves made room for her. They had stopped talking to her after Caspian had died. They had never liked her to begin with, but Caspian had been the final straw. They blamed her for his death and Clover blamed herself too. She didn’t begrudge them for it. Besides, she hadn’t been like them in a long while. What little of her mum and papa’s hobbit kindness was in her had nearly withered completely.

She passed the slaves, the men, the elves, the half-elves, the dwarrow, the hobbits, the dwobbits. These people weren’t her concern. They couldn’t be. Concern had killed her parents. Concern had killed Caspian. She couldn’t. She couldn’t…

Azog preferred her to be isolated. He preferred her not to mingle with those he saw as beneath her, his **little one**. Clover shuddered.

She made her way down to the dungeons, or at least what had been made into dungeons. There were torches that gave only the bare amount of light. Only dwarrow or dwobbit slaves came down to these levels besides the orcs. They could see in the darkness. Elves could as well, but they could not breathe the air like those of Mahal’s make could.

The light let her see the firedrake that had been dragged into the cave a month prior. She and her rider had ridden too close to Moria and had been defeated by the fellbeasts and their rider. They had forced her to crash on the side of the mountain. It had taken a week to get her to this level. The dragon had screamed the entire way, roaring at the pain and fighting against her capture. It was only when Bolg, Azog’s son, held a knife to her injured rider’s throat did she comply.

When they had gotten the firedrake down there, they had forced her to try and mate with one of their dragons. Try and get her with a hybrid child. One that could be bonded to an orc. From what Clover knew, no attempt had worked.

She had been placed in charge of giving the rider and the dragon food. They were chained and unable to get what little food had been stored for them. She didn’t know why Azog let her do this. It was probably because she was one of the few slaves that had the ability to bond with dragons. It was probably because he wanted her to be distracted from her despair. Caspian had caused her to become despondent for three years. Azog gave her a distraction so she wouldn’t completely lose her use. He still had plans for her yet.  

The dragon had been asleep for a couple weeks now. Refusing food. Clover had forced water down her throat but that had all she had been able to do. Bolg had tortured the rider to get the drake to wake up, but even that did not wake her. The drake had given up, just as Clover had.

The dwobbit padded over to the dragon. The drake had once been the color of emeralds, but now she was the color of dying grass, the only grass Clover had ever seen. The dwobbit searched for the rider until she found him. She didn’t really have to look. He was always in the same place. The dwarf was tucked between the dragon’s foreleg and her stomach. While he had once worn rich clothing and sturdy armor, when his black and grey hair and scarred eye had once made him look like a hero out of legend, he now looked no better than the rest of the slaves.

The orcs has taken everything save his shirt and his trousers. The fabric was torn and bloodied from the lashes he had gained during his torture. Clover had been the one to tend to those as well. They’d ripped out his beard and crudely chopped off his hair. What was left of it was matted with dirt and blood. A thick cuff was locked around his right ankle, bolting him to the floor. It made a noise every time he shifted, but now he was still.

Everyday, Clover would wonder if she would ever come down to find him dead.

She knelt down next to him and put a hand on his boney shoulder. He jerked slightly before opening his eyes. They had once been blue, but now they were a dull grey.

“Ah,” he said, his voice raspy from disuse. “It’s been awhile.” It hadn’t. She saw him every day. She was always made to come and feed him around this time. Still, this is how he almost always greeted her once he realized the same slave was feeding him. The dwarf shifted and grimaced. His broken arm had yet to heal. Clover knew how much pain he was in. “So,” he let Clover help him shift positions.  “What’s going on? There’s more noise than usual up there.”

Clover frowned. Her mum had taught her some Iglishmek, the dwarven sign language, but only a few words and the few sentences she had known.

_I love you._

_My lucky charm._

_Be back soon._

All sentences Clover’s adad had taught her before he up and left before Clover had been born. The rider had taught her some more, but she still wasn’t fluent enough to describe what was happening.

“Figh’,” she said, moving her jaw carefully to make the word more pronounced. The main reason her mum and the rider showed her the sign language was so she didn’t have to try and talk, but sometimes she had to anyway. “War…” the tip of her stubbed tongue pressed slightly against the back of her mouth with the r. “‘Warf…” she signed the word as well, just in case she didn’t get her point across.

It must have because his whole body shifted and something akin to light shone in his eyes. “They came for me,” his voice was barely a whisper.

Clover doubted that. Why would an entire army come for him? He wasn’t special and neither was his dragon. She was going to ask him, but then he indicated he wanted her to continue. She pushed aside her questions and continued.

She had to resort of mainly signs or crude pantomimes. She preferred not to talk. Occasionally she would try to sound something out for him if he didn’t get it.

She got to the point where Azog decapitated a dwarf and was jerked back to the present when the rider grabbed her by the wrist and squeezed it tightly.

“Describe him.”

She did the best that she could with the words she knew. When he asked about the hair and beard, she drew what she could remember, tracing her fingers in the dirt and ash.

The rider just stared at the crude drawing for a long moment. Clover watched as his face crumbled and his chest seemed to collapse. He drew in on himself. He made a strange noise and began to shake.

He was crying.

Clover hesitated for a moment before stretching her hand out to rest it lightly on his head. The rider was the only person to have been kind to her since Caspian had died. He didn’t find her repulsive like the other slaves did. He didn’t view her as pleasure that the dwarves Azog gave her to did. It was like echoes of Caspian, echoes of her parents.

The dwarf shuddered under her touch. He took a deep breath and looked up at her. His eyes were red, but when he spoke, he spoke with strength.

“Continue.”

Clover described the dark haired dwarf and the rider smiled bitterly  

“Fool,” he shook his head, but Clover detected a slight amount of pride. “He better not get himself killed.”

Clover was about to ask him who these dwarrow were when everything was ripped from her. Her world shifted and she felt her shields trembled against the familiar claws of her master. She clapped her hands over her ears as tears began to catch on her lashes. She curled into herself and pressed her forehead to the ground, trying to make the pain stop. It felt as though all of her body was on fire. No… this was supposed to be her one hour away from **him**.

**COME, LITTLE ONE. NOW.**

A broken whimper escaped Clover’s lips as the rider placed his hand on her head. “It’s alright,” he whispered. “You’re alright. Just breathe. Like we practiced. Remember?”

The first time the rider had witnessed Azog ripping into her mental shields, his words carving their way into her head, the dwarf had tried to help. Clover had felt the rider’s shields expand to protect her and, for once in her life, Clover had felt at peace, like she was in control of her own mind. Her master had been angry for this though. He came down to the dungeons and took it out on her. She still had the scars on her back from the whip, although they mingled with the others. Azog had ignored the rider’s screams about it being his own fault. He had been restrained by Bolg and that had been how he had broken his arm, trying to get to her. Trying to protect _her_.

It had been a lesson.

It had been learned.

After Azog threw her at the rider to catch, the rider had never tried to help her with her shield’s again. He had just held her like a baby and apologized over and over again.

Clover slowly pushed herself up. The sooner she got back to Azog, the better.

The rider was looking at her with a mix of regret towards her and anger towards Azog. Clover gave him a pained smile and left.

She hurried through the corridors and back to where she had been before.

The battle appeared to be over. She couldn’t hear anything from outside the gates. Orcs no longer raced outside but staggered back in. Many were injured and Clover knew most of them would be killed in the coming days based on how injured they were, that is if they weren’t lucky enough to die on their own.

Weakness was not tolerated among the orcs, just as it was not tolerated among the slaves.

Azog’s roar came from the direction of his room and Clover hurried to get there.

Her master’s room was located in the royal wing, which is why he had a balcony, although he rarely let her out on it. He had opened it and ordered her to watch until she had to attend to her other duties. His room was enormous and filled with treasures and crude tapestries Azog had made showing the destruction of the dwarrow and of their flight from the mountain.

Azog was lying on the massive, four poster bed, multiple orcs holding him down. Blood was spraying everywhere and Clover’s eyes widened when she saw that his arm was missing. Removed completely just below the elbow.

A sense of satisfaction rose in her belly at the thought that he might bleed out. Then, she began to fear what might become of her if he _did_ die. She wasn’t afraid of dying. Orcs needed slaves because the other races have been guarding their borders more fiercely since before Clover was born. Now, they wanted their slaves healthy enough to reproduce. Even with her life in the fighting ring, Azog wanted her to get with child, regardless of how young she probably was, age was a tricky thing amongst slaves born in Moria after all. Azog didn’t view her as much of a breeding slave as some of the other women, mainly hobbits, were, but he had let a few of the dwarrow who had worked themselves out of abject slavery and earned their freedom in the fighting ring to bed her, hoping they’d sire a true champion on her. Bolg, on the other hand. He would take her from the ring completely, take away that dangling hope of freedom away from her and force his own fighter, a dwarf named Ivar, to mate with her and get her with child. Or worse.

Clover shuddered.

She saw how her master’s son sometimes looked at her.

One of the orcs holding Azog down snarled at her and she jumped. She rushed off to give them some medical supplies, what meager amount the orcs bothered to keep handy. If he were anyone else, Azog would have been left to die. Another orc might kill him if only to take his position. But then Bolg would just kill them too.

After she had given the orcs the supplies, she made her way to her bed of filthy rags and an old pillow that smelled of urine and sex. There were chains that she was supposed to be wearing, but since the firedrake and her rider and been brought into the mountain, she hadn’t been made to wear them.

—

Azog developed an infection at his wound.

For the next few days, Clover stayed in her corner, hoping that her master would die. She didn’t even go to the rider. She couldn’t. She was too afraid to miss the possibility of seeing the orc who had take everything away from her succumb to a wound.

Eventually Azog developed a high fever and began ranting. His voice pounded against her brain and Clover began to worry if Bolg might just kill her if Azog didn’t get any help. She slowly made her way to a few orcs she knew to be loyal to her master and indicated that he needed aid.

Once they went to check on Azog, Clover quickly made her way down to check on the rider, she wanted to tell him what had happened. Along the way, she found some scraps of food and some cave water, a small treat for the fact that Azog had been injured.

The drake looked worse than before. Her breathing was becoming shallow with longer gaps between each breath. Her rider was awake, his eyes staring of ahead of himself, unseeing. He didn’t even notice Clover approach him. She knelt down next to him and offered him the meager amount of food.

He looked to her and smiled gently. “Thank you.”

Clover nodded and settled on her butt to watch him eat. Her own stomach growled slightly, reminding her of how little she had eaten, but she pushed the thought away. About half of the food she had given the rider was pushed into her view. She glanced up at him.

“Eat it.”

She rolled her eyes and sighed before obeying him. She ate slowly. She had learned long ago that eating slowly helped her stomach think she had eaten more than she actually did.

“What’s been happening?”

Clover did the best she could to explain.

The dwarf smirked when he heard about Azog’s arm. “Do you know what happened to the dwarf that fought him?”

She shook her head.

He nodded and leaned back. He looked pained for only a moment before he returned to his more passive expression. “The battle’s over?” She nodded. “There are too many orcs here. I could have told them it was hopeless.”

He was silent a long time after that. Clover settled in next to him and leaned against his good arm. She’d never met her adad, her papa was the only father she had known. The rider was far too old to be her adad, but sometimes, in her dreams, Clover pretended he was. This larger than life presence. Sometimes, at night, she would pretend he had come to the mountain for her.

But those were just dreams.

Her adad had left her mum long before she had been born. He hadn’t cared about her. Made it abundantly clear when an uncle Clover had never met sent word that her adad wanted to break ties. Clover remembered how much her mum would cry, so certain he would come for them until it she’d slowly… Papa had been the one to look after her. He’d been the one to stay. He’d been there for every first save for the most recent that Clover had experienced.

This dwarf wasn’t her adad.

He cared too much about her to be her adad.

“Does anyone know you’re down here?” The rider ask, an off look passed over his face.

Clover shook her head.

The rider closed his eyes and his face twisted as though in pain. He struggled to his feet and Clover scrambled up to help him. On his own, one leg dragging along its chain, he made his way to his dragon’s head and knelt. He laid his upper body against the drake’s snout as though he were a child. For what felt like ages, he was silent, but then he began to speak in the dwarvish tongue. None of the dwarrow growing up had bothered to teach it to her so she didn’t know what he was saying. She couldn’t understand the words, but she could feel the pain behind them. The dragon remained unresponsive. But as the rider continued to speak, his voice growing quieter and quieter, the dragon’s breathing began to slow as well.

Clover tensed. She had done this twice before. Once for her mum and then for her papa. She hadn’t been able to do it for Caspian.

The dragon let out a long breath, sinking almost further into the ground.

She didn’t inhale again.

The dwarf let out a single sob, his shoulders shaking, as he pressed his forehead against the drake’s.

Clover began to move to comfort him, but he was already pushing away to stand up. His face was bone white and he looked as though he had seen Mandos himself.

“I need a knife.”

Clover’s lip trembled for a moment. Her hands raised to ask him a question she had contemplated a few times herself.

Seeming to know what she was about to ask, he shook his head. “Now, please.” His voice broke.

Clover obeyed.

It wasn’t difficult to find a knife. Orcs weren’t organized and they often left things about. This was probably even more true considering they were too busy fighting. She didn’t have to go far before finding a sword of elvish make. She didn’t know who it had been made for but it was the perfect size for her. It was probably just a large letter opener to any of the bigger races. She picked it up and quickly handed it to the rider.

He took the blade gingerly. He glanced at her briefly, but he looked as though he were already dead. Was the connection between dragon and rider truly that intense?

“Turn around,” he ordered. Clover tilted her head. “Now.”

She flinched. He had never once taken that tone with her. Clover did as he commanded, turning her back to him. There was silence for a long time and then she heard the rider take a deep breath. Then, a horrific squelching sound echoed in the cavern. On instinct, Clover turned around and saw the rider using his good arm to drive his sword into the belly of the dragon again. Blood sprayed out as he drove the sword in again, slicing deep. His hair and clothes began to rinse with blood and the tang of copper began to permeate the air. He tossed the sword down and then shoved his way inside the stomach of his dragon.

What on Arda?

He came out a few moments later, gasping for breath. The rider was covered in blood and gore and looked like what Clover assumed a small balrog looked like. He carried something awkwardly in his good arm, but she couldn’t tell what it was.

He nodded at the sword. “Take that and strap it on.”

Had he gone insane? She would be killed if anyone saw her with a weapon outside the ring.

Sensing her panic he looked at her with a mix of pain and grief. “Please.”

Clover took a slow breath before taking the sword and sliding it under her leather belt.

“It’ll do for now,” the rider said. He settled whatever was in his arm in a sash that had been used to bind an old wound. He used his bad arm as well. He wrapped it careful before holding out whatever it was in his arm. “Here, take her.”

Her?

Hesitantly, Clover put her arms out for him to put whatever ‘her’ was into her hands. Warmth folded her arms followed by the expansion of something breathing. Clover’s eyes widened and she almost dropped it. However, she quickly pulled the baby close to her chest.

She could see it now, through the blood, the baby dragon. It was so tiny it could fit in her arms. It’s eyes were closed, it’s head the only thing visible in the little bundle.

So that’s why the fallbeasts couldn't mate with the drake. The dragon was already pregnant with another half-breed.

A dwobbit dragon.

“You have to get her out of here.”

Clover looked up at him. He wanted her to do what?

“Please, you know what will happen if Azog gets her.” He rattled the chain on his leg. “I can’t go, so it has to be you.” He was desperate, his eyes frantic.

He was right about Azong. He would do the same thing he was trying to do to her. Get her with child and use it for his own enjoyment. Then he’d kill her. Just as he would eventually kill Clover too.

The rider grabbed her shoulders and looked her in the eye. “You can do this. I know you can. Get her out of here. There should still be a few dwarrow in the area. Go to them. They’ll protect both of you.” He went back to his dragon and pulled something out out of the hollowness of some missing scales. It was a ring and a key. “Give these to a dwarf named Thorin or Frerin or a dam named Dís. They’ll know what this is. Tell them their father gave you this. They’ll look after you.”

Clover blinked up at him.

Leave the mines? She’d never left them before. She had only been outside once and that had been on the balcony a few days ago. Could she actually do it.

Be free?

She didn’t even know what that meant. She just knew what it meant to be free-born. Something so few of the slaves were now.

Could she even do it?

“I know you’re scared,” the rider said, putting the ring and key in her pocket. “I do, but do you want to stay? Wouldn’t you rather die free than die never knowing what the world outside this mountain is?”

Outside the mountain.

She knew what she wanted.

She wanted to experience the things her mum and papa told her about when she was a babe. She wanted to see dragons fly. She wanted to feel grass that was alive. She wanted to feel fresh wind on her face.

She wanted to see Bag End.

Could she really?

What if she was caught?

What if she wasn’t?

What if she died out there?

She was going to die in here anyway.

The rider hugged her. His face nuzzled the top of her head. Tears began to slide down her cheeks. She hadn’t been hugged in three years.

“Hurry,” he said, pulling away. “You need to find the dwarrow quickly. Go.”

She nodded and turned to leave, but paused. She looked back at the rider. “ _Huru’ ga’a’_ ,” her stubbed tongue curled up at the g.

_Rest well._

He smiled at her. “ _Tan menu selek lanun naman_.”

She didn’t know what that meant. But it felt like a blessing.

Clover turned again and didn’t look back. She heard another squelching noise and a grunt.

She moved quickly after that.

The dwobbit kept to the shadows. It was sleeping time based on how few orcs and slaves she saw. The ones awake didn’t look at her.

Shadows of fear and doubt began to knock against her chest, but she pushed forward. She could handle whatever Azog threw at her. She was already broken. But this… this baby was innocent. She wouldn’t let him hurt her.

When she reached the gates, she was surprised that no one had stopped her. Tears began to prick her vision.

There were no guards protecting the gate.

She could have left any time.

They all could have left at any time.

She doubted anyone would be able to leave like this once they discovered that she was gone.

The baby dragon shifted in her arms, mewling slightly.

_‘I’ll protect you, baby. I won’t let him get you.’_

Clover took a deep breath and stepped from the gates.

—

The rider had told her to find the dwarven army but  the only dwarrow Clover saw were scattered amongst the bodies of dead orcs. She assumed the army was from Erebor, but she had no idea what direction the mountain was. Her mother said it was East of the Shire, but she didn’t know where East was without the sun.

Erebor.

It was where her adad was from.

Clover’s lips twisted as she decided to simply put as much distance between her and Moria as possible.

If she ran into someone, she might be able to ask where Erebor or the Shire were. Her papa had made extra sure she knew how to write those two words.

Clover wasn’t even certain which place was closest.

She sighed and pushed onward.

She would have to find the dwarves Thorin, Frerin, or Dís eventually. Her stomach twisted. Her father never came back her her or her mum by choice.

Clover sat down for a moment and laid the baby dragon on her legs for a few moments as she pulled the ring and key out of her pocket. She tugged the chain from around her neck that held a charm her adad had given her mum a long time ago. A four-leaf clover. She undid the chain and slipped the ring and the key onto it before setting out again.

Thorin, Frerin, and Dís deserved to know that their father had wanted to come home to them. They deserved to know that.

—

Clover didn’t stop walking until the sun reached the top of the sky.

She had decided to go West to the Shire. That’s where her mum and papa were from. That’s near where they had been taken. Maybe they still had family left. Maybe _she_ still had family left.

Besides, Clover was tired of the mountains. Tired of stone. Tired of the coldness biting her feet.

Clover found a free to settle under. The area was free of any touch of murk that seemed to persistence the mountain. She would sleep for a little bit.

The baby dragon mewled helplessly. She was hungry.

“‘Orry,” Clover whispered. “Me ‘oo.”

The dwobbit opened the sash the dragon was wrapped in and touched the palm of her hand to the waking baby’s head.

Heat shot up Clover’s arm and she yanked her hand back and looked at her palm. It became so hot that her body grew cold. A burn began to curl along the heel of her palm in a small swirl. The pain became too much and Clover’s world once more descended into darkness.

—

Halfway across the world, Fíli, Crown Prince of Erebor, dropped to his knees during a sparring match with his brother. He clinched his pained wrist with his normal hand. Fíli clenched his teeth as he watched the Mark of _Uslukh_ carved itself into his palm.

His Other had found their dragon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurun ganat – Rest well  
> Tan menu selek lanun naman – May your forge burn bright  
> Uslukh – a dragon
> 
> I’m keeping who Clover’s father is a secret for a long time (even Clover doesn’t actually know his name). Feel free to guess.  
> I’ll tell you right now though that it isn’t Dwalin.


	2. A Name I Cannot Say

_She saw a dwarf._

_She couldn’t quite make out his face or anything else really. She just knew he was a dwarf. He was talking to someone, but she couldn’t see them or even hear what he was saying. Whatever it was, it was urgent._

_Clover reached out to touch him and he stilled as her hand brushed against his shoulder. He turned to look in her direction and then he was gone._

_Odd._

_She wasn’t quite sure where she was._

_Nowhere, she supposed. Just an expanse of blue nothingness._

_Barren._

_Empty._

_Now that Clover thought about it. She had never been somewhere so silent before. Even when she had been leaving the mines, there had been her breath and the wind and the birds of prey feasting on the fallen._

_This place was silent._

_Strange._

_Peaceful._

_Horrible._

—

Clover woke up to a blue sky.

She blinked a few times to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. Something shifted in the crook of her arms and she looked down to see the baby dragon laying between said arm and her side. The dragon was the same color as the sky with feathery wings.

Ah.

It was a dwobbit dragon. A firedrake mother and an amphiptere father. Just like her.

The baby dragon, Clover really should name her, mewled slightly as she stretched, her tiny wings stretching and her paws flexing. She smacked her jaw and blinked herself awake. Her eyes were blue too. The dragon gave off a purring when she realized Clover was awake.

The dwobbit blinked at her and then remembered why she had fainted. She lifted her right hand and looked at the heel of her palm. Her hand was still dirty, the years of soot and ash and dirt rubbed deep into her skin, but the palm of her hand was cleaned as though it had been scorged. The burn mark had become a tattoo of a blue spiral with two runes in the middle of it. Clover had no idea what they said.

A few of the older slaves had similar markings on their hands. The dragon rider had one too. She’d been marked as one of a dragon riding pair. If the stories she heard were true, her Other would have a similar mark. Supposedly, the runes on her hand were her Other’s name, either a hobbit or a dwarf or a dwobbit like her. They would have her name on their hand too. But Clover couldn’t read the language of the runes, so it wasn’t really any help at all.

Clover sighed and looked back up to the sky when the earth below her jerked slightly. That’s when the dwobbit realized that she was moving.

She sat up quickly, pulling the baby dragon to her chest. Clover looked around herself wildly and saw horses, their riders, and saw dragons circling overhead. She was in a cart.

“Oh, your awake,” she heard a male voice come from behind her. “We were starting to get worried.”

Clover turned around and pushed herself as far back from the man as possible until her back hit the side of the cart. The sword from the mines was near her and she snatched it up and pointed it at him.

He held his hands up to show that he was unarmed, or at least he wasn’t holding a weapon. His hands were bare save for the dragon marking on his palm. He was a dragon rider too.

He was lean and dark and tall. He had a shaggy head of dark hair with a pale face and keen grayish blue eyes. He wore a dark green cloak with a clasp shaped like a six-pointed Star.

“R…rangerrrr…” she said, hesitantly, forcing the word out. Her parents had told her about them once a long time ago. They protected the Shire.

“That’s right, little one.” She must have flinched because the dragon in her arms mewled again and the ranger’s eyes narrowed for a moment. “Do you have a name, kid?”

“‘Over,” she tried. She hated that she couldn’t properly say her name. Her stump of a tongue was useless.

Something pierced her shields and she screamed. She doubled over and curled around the baby dragon. This wasn’t Azog, so why did it hurt so much? Surely he couldn’t reach her from this far!

“Hey, hey, hey,” she felt a large hand press against her back as whatever had touched her shields retreat. “You’re okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Estel, what did you do?” Another male voice came from where the first man was.

“I was trying to learn the kid’s name but they can’t say it so I was trying to—”

“He’s an ex-slave, Estel,” a third voice came. “They tear those down the second they realize the potential.” Another hand was placed on Clover’s back. “Breathe. It’s going to be okay. He didn’t mean to hurt you. No one is ever going to do that to you again, okay?”

Clover whimpered, but nodded. She didn’t uncurl herself from her ball, the dragon mewled softly and her soft tongue licked up the tears that had caught in her eyelashes.

“We’ll help you fix your shields soon. My sister is really good at this sort of thing. Now, we’re going to rest for a bit soon and wash up. How about you join us? Get all that spot and dirt off you, wash all that stuff away. How does that sound?” Clover nodded again. “Okay. Your safe kid. Just sleep a bit more and you’ll never have to think about that place ever again.”

—

They stopped not long after. They led Clover to the river and gave her something they called soap and a rag without holes in it to wash.

“Do you know how to use it?” The one that had calmed her, Elladan, asked. Clover shook her head. “You get it wet and you rub it against your skin and keep washing it with water. You might have to rub really hard depending on how long you’ve been in the mines.”

Clover nodded. The baby dragon was sitting on her head.

The rangers began to undress, used to having to do so. Clover watched for a moment trying to figure out why. It took her a second to realize they were going to wash under their clothes too. Clover had never really bathed before. The slaves had used a heated clay to keep themselves as clean as they could be.

The dwobbit untied her belt and pulled off her pants and shirt. She’d not been bare with anyone since the last time Azog had tried to get a dwarf to mate her. Before that had been when the other slaves didn’t mind sharing the clay pit with her. She was about to step into the water when she heard someone swear. She looked up at the rangers to see that all of them had promptly turned their backs on her and had all squatted down so their necks and heads were the only thing sticking out of the water.

“Arwen!!!” The brother of the nicest elf, Elrohir, shouted.

“I am not a child anymore, brother. I shan’t join you!” The only woman in the group, an elf, said from her place tending to the horses.

“You can’t see us!” Elladan called. “The kid’s a girl!”

Clover wondered why that mattered.

“Oh!” The lady Arwen came to Clover’s side immediately. “Let’s go get some privacy, how about that?”

“Why…?”

Arwen smiled gently. “Boys and girls don’t tend to bathe together, so let’s go behind those rocks and I’ll help you clean up, okay?”

Clover shrugged. She’d bathed with boys plenty of times before. She wondered why all the men had turned around. She looked down at herself. There wasn’t really anything to see. The dwarfs who’d been sent to her said it a lot. Women tended to be tiny compared to the men.

Arwen took Clover’s hand and walked her to a place behind large rocks where the men couldn’t see them. Arwen quickly undressed and helped Clover into the water. “Alright, let's get started. Shall we?”

—

Clover sat between Arwen’s legs as the elf washed her back, the baby dragon had been transferred to a female wyvern for food. The elf kept asking if the amount of pressure she was putting hurt, but Clover just shook her head. Occasionally the elf would go over a bruise, but Clover his her winces.

“So, can you try your name again?”

“C’over,” the dwobbit tried, lifting the charm of her necklace.

“Clover?” She nodded her head. “That’s a pretty name. And you want to go to the Shire?” Clover nodded. “Do you have family there?” She nodded her head. “Can you say their names as good as you’re able?”

“‘Ook.” _Took._ “Bagggi.’” _Baggins._

“Baggins and Took?” Clover nodded. “Are your parents in the Shire?” She shook her head. “The mine?”

She shook her head again. “‘Ie.’”

“Died?” Clover nodded. The elf pressed her lips to the top of Clover’s head. “I’m sorry.” Clover nodded. “Can you say your parents’ names?”

Clover thought for a moment. She couldn’t say her mum’s name. Too many sounds needed her tongue to be spoken. She could say her papa’s though. “Bun...go… Baggi’...”

“Bungo Baggins?” Arwen’s voice sounded strained. Clover nodded. “And your mother?”

Clover took Arwen’s hand and held it in front of her. Her papa had taught her this. He told her she should never forget it. _You never know. Your adad might come to find you._ Clover doubted it, but she liked her mum’s name anyways. Slowly, Clover traced her mother’s name on Arwen’s hand.

_B-E-L-L-A-D-O-N-N-A_

“Belladonna Took?” Arwen’s voice was a whisper. It almost sounded as though she had no air at all. Clover looked behind to the elf and nodded. The woman’s grey eyes were wide with shock. “Your Bella’s daughter?”

Clover nodded again and was shocked to see tears beginning to slide down the elf’s cheeks.

—

“Hello, sweetheart,” his Aunt Briar gave him a hug. “So, your amad tells me your runes aren’t Khuzdul?”

Fíli nodded and held out his hand. The mark had turned blue after a few hours, which meant his dragon was blue. He’d expected to see Khuzdul on his hand, but instead it was a language he didn’t know. He figured it might be hobbitish, which is why he asked his amad to get his Aunt Briar. She was a dwobbit after all.

Briar took his hand in hers and examined it. “Hm… your Other is definitely either a hobbit or a dwobbit. You Durins sure know how to pick them don’t you?” She smiled up at him.

“Auntie Bri~”

She laughed. “I know, I know. Your runes say ‘Clover,’ so that can be a boy or a girl’s name. I’m afraid I don’t know any dwobbits or hobbits in the mountain with that name.”

Fíli sighed. “I was afraid of that.”

“It means they might be in the Iron Hills, in Ered Luin, or even the Shire.” Briar clasped his hands between hers. “Having an Other is a wonderful thing, Fíli. Don’t waste the bond the Valar has given you.”

Fíli nodded. He knew full well what an honor it was to have an Other, to have someone to share your mind with. It was different than finding your One. Ones had your heart, Others were a part of a rider’s very soul.

His parents were both Others and Ones. Kíli was Othered with his best friend, Ori. His uncles were Others. Briar was the only one without her Other. Her twin brother, Bilbo, had died from an orc raid years before Fíli was born. Her dragon, a beautiful green amphiptere, was all she had left of her Other and, even with the aid of Thorin, her One, Fíli knew she still felt an emptiness to her.

A little while after his Mark had appeared, he thought he sensed someone touching his shoulder, only to realize there was no one there. Part of him wondered if it was his Other reaching out for him.

“I know.”

Briar smiled. “Once your uncle’s and amad are finished with their mourning period, they’ll take you on your Tour to find your Other.”

“Okay.”

“Have you showed Adrina yet?”

Fíli shook his head. No. He hadn’t shown his girlfriend his Mark yet. She wasn’t a possible rider and he knew she wouldn’t completely understand the concept of an Other. For his own sake, Fíli hoped his Other was a guy. It would certainly be one less thing for him to worry about.


	3. I was Nothing

“Alright,” Arwen said, taking Clover’s hands in hers. The baby dragon was sitting on the dwobbit’s head. The tips of her feather wings brushed against Clover’s shoulders. “I’m going to touch your mind and help you fix your shields. Okay?” Clover nodded. “It might hurt, but I don’t mean to. Okay?”

Clover nodded again and closed her eyes. The baby dragon—she really needed to think of a name—began to lick the dwobbit’s temple.

Clover winced as she felt Arwen’s mind brushing against her own. It was gentler than Azog’s (much gentler) and much less abrasive than when Aragorn, who the elves called Estel for some reason, did. It was as though Arwen was brushing her fingertips against the broken shields. It was an odd feeling. The elleth wasn’t pushing in. She was just touching the shattered shield. Slowly, Clover felt Arwen setting up a wall of her shield piece by piece.

Clover whimpered.

“It’s okay,” Arwen said, rubbing circles on the back of Clover’s hands with her own thumbs. “Help me put it back up.”

Clover reached out and touched the shattered remains of her shield. They had always been there. They had always been that way. She couldn’t actually remember them ever being whole. She’d never been able to talk to anyone with a _voice_ ever. None of the other possible riders or claimed riders were able to either—especially after Azog got to them. But this was the first time she had ever tried to even touch the shards of her shields.

She began to stack the pieces together.

“It will take some time,” Arwen said gently. “This isn’t just a one-time sort of thing we can fix. But we’ll do it together until no one can force themselves into your mind ever again.” The elleth kissed Clover in the forehead.

Clover believed her.

—

_She was in the blue nothingness again._

_It was warm this time._

_She could sense someone else. She was certain it was a guy. It… He felt… like sunlight. It was like the first time that she felt sunlight after being free._

_Her Other?_

_She couldn’t think of anyone also she could be connected to._

_Ones didn’t actually exist. So she doubted it was her ‘One.’_

_He was just a shape._

_Golden. It was the only way to describe him._

_Clover reached out, her fingers brushed against his form. She could sense his shield. She wondered if the blue nothingness was silent because of her lack of shields._

_Her lack of voice?_

_She felt him touch against her own shields and she winced. He wasn’t being forceful, but it was a hard press, almost like he was excited._

_He thought very loudly._

Where are you?

_He sounded excited. Excited to meet her._

_Why would he be excited to meet her?_

_She was nothing._

You aren’t.

—

Clover clung to Arwen as they reached the Shire.

The baby dragon—was she allowed to name her without her Other—was in a sling and curled against her chest. Her head rested against Clover’s shoulder. The baby’s tongue occasionally flicking out to lick her pulse point.

As they walked through the Shire, hobbits and dwobbits and dwarrow kept glancing at her. Even though Arwen had made sure Clover was clean and had even dressed her to look somewhat nice to meet the Tooks and the Bagginses, it was obvious to everyone that Clover wasn’t like them and that she wasn’t normal. Her hair was shaved so very close to her head instead of the waterfall of curls hobbit lasses seemed to have or the long wavy locks that dwobbits and dams had.

She didn’t look like them.

She was nothing.

 _You aren’t._ Her Other’s voice echoed in her head and, for a moment, she felt a little braver.

They came to a hobbit house, Clover’s parents had called it a _smial_. It had a round green door and a garden. Clover knew this place. Her papa had built it for her mum when she found out she was pregnant and her adad had already made it clear he wasn’t coming back.

Clover took Arwen’s hand in hers.

B-A-G E-N-D ?

“That’s right,” Arwen said softly. “It stayed in the family. Elladan went ahead to alert them.”

As though it had been rehearsed, a beautiful dwobbit flung the door open. Her hair was a stunning ebony and her eyes were a dazzling grey. Clover blinked. She’d never really seen a woman with dwarf braids before. Behind her was a slightly older dwarf. His hair was wild and a mix of black and grey. What made him stand out the most, however, was the axe in his head.

The dwobbit threw her arms around Clover and held her close and then began to sob. The younger dwobbit froze for a moment before patting the other one, trying to be as comforting as possible. She’d never really given comfort before. The older dwobbit pulled away and cupped Clover’s cheeks.

“I knew your mum when I was a kid,” she said softly, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I remember you when you were still just a little pebble in Aunt Bella’s stomach.” The dwobbit smiled. “My name’s Lobelia Took. My mum was your mum’s oldest sister.” She motioned to the dwarf behind her. “This is my da, Bifur. We’ve… we’ve been looking after Bag End hoping…”

The dwarf, Bifur, Clover supposed he was her uncle, said something in the language Clover occasionally heard dwarrow slaves speak. He put his hand on Clover’s head and his calloused fingers rubbed along her scalp.

“We’ve been looking after the old place, hoping you or your mum would come back,” Lobelia seemed to translate. “Welcome home.”

Clover blushed.

Home.

A word that meant a place to live. A place to grow. A place that she belonged.

Clover opened her mouth and found the word felt warm in her mouth as tears began to slide down her cheeks.

“Home.”

—

Fíli awoke to a warm feeling in his chest. He still couldn’t properly feel his Other through their bond. His Other was dark and almost shapeless. His Other’s shields were weak too, which was strange. He couldn’t hear their voice, just their feelings and the essence of their thoughts. The thought that had prevailed through their bond was that his other thought that they were nothing.

Dragons didn’t just choose anyone to be their rider. Surely Fíli’s Other knew that. But, perhaps they didn’t. For when Fíli has told them that they weren’t nothing, the prince felt something warm spread through the bond. A warmth that felt like the sun on a good summer’s day where there were no lessons and nothing left to do but lay in his aunt’s garden and soak in the warmth of the sun.

Fíli’s eyes snapped open and he pulled a dagger from his thigh and held it up to the throat of the person standing over him.

“Getting slow, Prince,” Nori said, shaking his head as Fíli let go. “You can never get lost in thought like that again, else we get stuck with your brother as our next king.”

“Is there a reason you’re here, Nori?”

“Did as you and your uncle asked,” the spymaster said. “There’s no hobbit or dwobbit with the name Clover here or in Dale or in Laketown.”

“And elsewhere?”

“As far as I have heard there isn’t.” The older dwarf pulled out a chair from Fíli’s desk and sat down, resting his arms on the back of the chair. “But I don’t know everything. I haven’t been to the Shire in a long time. They don’t much like me there. I wasn’t the spymaster then. They don’t much care for thieves,” he said ruefully.

“So my Other could be in the Shire?”

“Or they could be anywhere a dwarf and hobbit or just a hobbit might be. Dwobbits are better accepted then they were a half a century ago.” Nori stroked his beard. “I still remember when Thorin found your aunt. Caused quite the scandal, especially considering her condition. It became better when they realized she had a good head on her shoulders and you were born.”

Dwobbits hadn’t always been well liked. It wasn’t their fault. It’s just that hobbits and dwarrow were two radically different cultures. Both were also ridiculously stubborn which was why dwobbits used to have to pick a side. Rarely did the marriage between a hobbit and a dwarf ever work either. Mainly because hobbits didn’t live even half as long as dwarrow did.

“Anything else to report?” Fíli asked.

“Rumors are going around that you and Adrina are going to start officially courting. That true?”

“I don’t know if she’s my One yet,” Fíli replied quickly.

“You better figure it out soon, Prince,” Nori warned. “It’s no good to lead a girl on like that.”

Fíli sighed and buried his face in his hands. It would be so much easier if he could force the Recognition. Sometimes Ones knew each other for two centuries before being Recognized. It just happens at random. Everything is normal until suddenly a dwarf or dwobbit realizes _oh, I’ve been waiting for you_. What’s worse is that it doesn’t always happen at the same time for Ones. And then, sometimes you weren’t even your One’s One.

Fíli knew Thorin Recognized Briar as his One when she knocked him flat on his back during a spar five years into them meeting. Briar Recognized him a year later when he was letting some dwarrow children play with him. His parents Recognized each other when his mother accidentally broke his father’s nose.

Fíli and Adrina had been dating for three years now. He liked her, probably even loved her. She was beautiful and had a good head on her shoulders. Fíli knew she liked him, most definitely loved him based on the way she’d pull him into a abandoned hallway and kissed him breathless. Although she never said, Fíli was certain she had already Recognized him and she deserved to be Recognized too.

He just wanted to Recognize her as soon as possible to clear everything up. It would probably help his bond with his Other too. He knew Recognition changed a person ever so slightly and it would be nice to have it out of the way when he officially met his Other.

“How are Brenna and Ari?” Fíli asked.

“They’re good. Ari is starting his apprenticeship with Dori. He doesn’t want to follow in his old man’s footsteps I suppose. Brenna’s still griping about me getting a more respectable job. But Skadus likes that he doesn’t have to fly with me all the time. He much prefers Brenna.”

Not many people were aware that Nori was a dragonrider, which seemed to suit the spymaster just fine. Fíli supposed the less people knew about the spymaster the better. Mahal, some people still thought he and Dwalin hated each other.

“You best be getting ready, Prince,” Nori said, disrupting Fíl’is thoughts.

“Why?”

“You’re about five minutes late to your training with Thorin.”

Fíli swore as he jumped out of bed and sped to get ready. Thorin would not be happy about waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is definitely a filler chapter but hopefully the next chapter will be longer!


	4. I Would Never Leave You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: mentions of non-con/rape. Nothing explicit but Clover has a flashback to her first time. It just talks about her fighting back and feeling pain.

Arwen and the Rangers stayed for a month before they headed back to their home in a place called Rivendell. Clover’s parents had talked about it once, but that was it. They’d stayed for Clover’s sake so Arwen could continue to help heal the young dwobbit’s shields. They were erected and all that needed to be done was for Clover to strengthen them, but that was something she had to do on her own.

“You can come visit us once you’ve settled a bit,” Arwen smiled as the others mounted their horses. Clover wrapped her arms around Arwen’s hips. “We’ll see each other again. I promise.”

 _‘Thank you,’_ Clover spoke hesitantly through her her shield.

Arwen smiled once more before Clover let go and let the elleth mount her own horse. Clover stepped back to stand next to her uncle and cousin. They waved goodbye and let Clover wait until the traveling party could no longer be seen down the stretch of the road.

Lobelia then led Clover inside so they could have some second breakfast. Over the course of the month, the young dwobbit has grown thicker. She wasn’t chubby like some of the hobbits she had seen, but she wasn’t as skinny as she had been before. There was even a slightly more noticeable swell to her hips and chest. She would probably never be built like other hobbits, but Lobelia did comment that Clover looked a little more like a girl now. Her hair was growing out a bit too, coarse brown hair. “Like your mum’s,” Lobelia had added.

They sat down to eat. Uncle Bifur was slowly teaching her more iglishmêk, but she still wasn’t proficient enough to carry a conversation in signs alone with two non-riders. Then, it was also hard for her to make the verbal noises when she was eating. Lobelia was still working on teaching Clover manners too.

It also didn’t help that Saphira—the baby dragon—demanded constant attention and always wanted Clover to feed her by hand as opposed to eating from a bowl.

“Bifur…” Clover said carefully as their meal was ending. There was something she had never been sure how to ask, so all she could do was simply ask it. “My ‘warrow papa…”

Bifur stiffened. He glanced at Lobelia who knew she would have to translate. The dwarf began to sign quickly and quite angrily. Clover was only able to catch a few words.

“Your mum loved him very much…” Lobelia translated. “Almost everyone didn’t approve because they didn’t think he deserved her… But you couldn’t tell your mum what to do… There was talk of engagement since your adad said your mum was his One… Your adad had to go back home for some issues with his brother… Your uncle later sent word that your adad wasn’t going to return to the Shire and was going to stay in Ered Luin, where he was from… It broke your mum’s heart because she had only just found out she was pregnant with you a few days before… She and Bungo were close friends and he wanted you and her to have a home where you wouldn’t have to depend on a man again… we never heard from your adad again… We just know he’s alive...”

Clover felt her stomach twist. Saphira began to mewl softly and scrambled up to wrap herself around Clover’s arm and rest her hand on the young dwobbit’s shoulder.

‘Meet?’ she signed.

Bifur shook his head.

“Better if you never do,” Lobelia translated. She turned to Clover. “I don’t remember much about him,” Lobelia admitted. “I just remember your mum being really sad when he decided he didn’t want to come back. He claimed that she was his One but he left her. Good dwarrow or dwobbits don’t do something like that. Clover, I admit that I don’t know who he is, but I think it’s better that you never meet him. Your papa was Bungo and I think he was the best adad you could have asked for. Don’t let what that dwarf did ruin what fatherhood means to you. Okay?”

Clover nodded and excused herself from the table, carrying Saphira close to her chest, trying hard not to cry.

—

_She was running._

_The battle at the base of Moria raged on. She tried to find the dwarf that had injured Azog. He had to be the Thorin or Frerin that the dragonrider had talked about. She needed to find him. He’d keep her safe._

_He’d keep Baby Dragon safe._

_It was raining blood and smoke and ash and she could barely breathe. The dragon was mewling helplessly against her chest as her brethren screamed from the sky as they fought against the fellbeasts._

_She would get out._

_She would get out!_

_‘Your adad might come back for you,’ her mama’s voice burrowed in her mind._

_‘Hide,’ came her papa’s voice._

_‘We’ll get out of here,’ Caspian’s voice came. ‘I’ll protect you, I promise.’_

_But it was all lies. Her adad didn’t care. He never did. Hiding did nothing as Azog broke her shields until they had almost been dust. They’d never gotten out. Caspian was dead he was dead and it was all her fault._

_She screamed as she was suddenly in Azog’s rooms again. She was huddled in a corner with a somewhat clean white tunic and her face scrubbed clean. The dwarf the other orc brought was watching her with hunger. He was from another part of the mine. One she didn’t know. He had a beard, which meant he was free. It was a fiery red almost like blood. She didn’t know why he was there. She didn’t want to know why he was there._

_Azog and the other orc seemed to come to an agreement. They began to laugh and sit and drink and then turned to watch. The dwarf came towards her smelling of blood and iron and bile. He spoke to her as though she were a child, which she was, or an animal in need of being calmed. He spoke sweetly to her and said if she was good he would take her far away from this place. She asked about her mama and papa who had hair of mithril and he promised he’d get them out too. He said he was very rich and was very strong. It was why he was free. He said if she was good maybe she would be free too._

_Then he started to touch her._

_She tried to push his hand away because it made her feel weird and her skin prickled against his touch. She asked him to stop and he just asked if she wanted to be free. She asked him to stop as he climbed on top of her and held her down. She asked him to stop as he began to rip her tunic off and swear about how she was such a pretty little one._

_She begged her master to save her. Azog was cruel but it hurt. It hurt so much and he never wanted her to hurt unless it was because of him or the arena. She begged her master to save her and he laughed._

_So she fought back. She clawed and bit and spat but that only made the dwarf move faster._

_Stop! Her mind screamed as she closed her eyes. Make it stop!_

_She felt the warmth of the sun on her face and then the dwarf was off her._

_She was in the blue emptiness and she curled in on herself in relief._

Clover. _Her Other’s voice was soft and gentle._

_She felt his hand on her cheek and it reminded her of Caspian. ‘We’ll get out of here. I’ll protect you, I promise.’_

_Clover reached for her Other and wrapped herself around his light, his warmth. He held her closely to him and it was the first time she could really feel him. His hand rubbed along her back as she sobbed into his chest._

I’ll protect you, I promise.

_She could almost see him now. His tunic was a soft brown and felt like the cotton Lobelia had her wear._

_His voice was clearer too. He was asking where she was. He was asking how he could find her. Begging her to tell him she was okay. Begging her to tell him where she was so he could get her out of there._

_Safe. That’s all she could feel as he held her. Safe._

_Dream. It had just been a dream._

_Clover felt him relax as he held her close._

You’re safe?

_She nodded, burying her face into his chest._

_He felt relieved._

I’ll find you as soon as I can. I promise.

_Clover believed him._

_Because he was her Other._

_Others didn’t abandon one another except through death._

_Others were not like Ones._

_Her Other would protect her._

_Her Other wouldn’t abandon her like her adad abandoned his One._

—

Adrina dragged him into a side tunnel and began to kiss him furiously. It was more tongue and teeth than lips as her hands began to rub up and down his chest.

Fíli took her wrists gently and pulled her hand away, tipping his head back from her.

“What is it?” Her large blue eyes were  filled with excitement and lust.

“I…” Fíli felt bad for pulling away, especially considering he hadn’t been able to spend time with her recently. The mourning period would last for another year and he had been busy looking after his amad and uncles to really pay attention to Adrina. “It was a rough night.”

She tilted her head in confusion. “Why?”

“My Other had a nightmare and it seeped into our bond.” He hadn’t understood what was even going on at first. It was battle and then carnage and then a bald dwarf assaulting a young girl. It had made Fíli sick. It was made even worse when he realized it was Clover. He could still feel her trembling in his arms as she sobbed helplessly into him. “It was… rough.”

“Is he okay?”

He’d only found out that night that Clover was a girl. It shouldn’t complicate things. It normally wouldn’t. But Fíli worried about how Adrina would take it. It wasn’t that his girlfriend was a jealous person, it’s more that she was insecure. He was the crown prince and he had duties and he had to be polite to other dams who batted their eyelashes at him because they were the daughters of other lords he had to please. He knew it was hard on her. He felt bad about it, but he wasn’t going to correct Adrina on what gender Clover was for now.

“I think so. I still can’t properly hear Clover through the bond. I can just sense feelings and a basic thought. It sounded as though Clover was safe.”

Adrina nodded slowly. “Well, that’s good then.” She pulled him down and tried kissing him again and Mahal damn him, Fíli let her.

He wrapped his arms around her and turned them around so she was pressed into the wall. She squealed happily and made the kiss deeper.

 _‘Fíli,’_ his uncle’s voice came through his shield.

After a long moment, Fíli finally pulled away, but kissed her gently on the lips before he let her go completely. “I have to go. Thorin will have my head if you make me late again.”

“I’m sure I can make it worth it.”

Fíli forced a smile, remembering Clover’s screams as their dwarf rutted into her. He remembered tearing that dwarf off of her, fully intending to tear the pathetic worm apart. And that had been even before he knew it was Clover.

“I’ll see you later, Adrina.”

Fíli made his way to his uncle. As he walked, he reached for his Aunt Briar through the family’s shared link. _‘Bri?’_

_‘Hm?’_

_‘What was it like having a male Other that wasn’t your One?’_

His aunt didn’t answer him for a moment. _‘Is Clover a girl then?’_

_‘Yes.’_

_‘Well, it’s different for me. Bilbo was my twin. It’s no different from your uncles being Others really. I know I sometimes feel jealous over how close your uncles can be, but that’s only because their bond is so deep, them being brothers and all.’_ She paused for a moment. _‘You should probably talk to Dwalin. His One, Astrid, and his Other, Ingrid, are sisters. That relationship has always been a healthy balanced one. I would talk to him.’_

_‘Thanks.’_

_‘So… does that mean you Recognized Adrina?’_

_‘... No…’_

_‘Fíli. I know bonding with your Other will put a strain on your relationship with Adrina if you haven’t Recognized her yet, but this happens sometimes and Mahal makes a way for us to handle it.’_ She paused. _‘Fíli… does she know that Clover is a girl?’_

_‘No.’_

_‘You need to tell her, Fí.’_

_‘But–’_

_‘Tell her. She deserves to know so it doesn’t hurt her in the long run. If you love her like you sometimes say you do, then she deserves to know. If Adrina is your One, Clover is going to be a big part of your life. And, in turn, Clover’s One will be a big part of yours. Tell her.’_

_‘I’ll tell her the next time I see her. I promise.’_

_‘Good.’_

Their link closed and Fíli hurried to Thorin.

He wished he would have a Recognition soon. Once he had one, perhaps the warmth of Clover in his arms might finally leave him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may start doing chapters in one POV of Clover and Fíli, but also other characters. 
> 
> P.S. I love reading your guesses on who Clover’s dwarven dad is. Theories are always welcome!


	5. I Forgot Who I Was

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters are now getting titles. Check out the previous ones if you wish. 😘

It had been two months since Clover had begun living in the Shire. Learning Iglishmêk and Khuzdul was relatively easier now that there was someone to teach her. The signs were easy to pick up and, as long as her uncle slowed down a little, she could understand his Khuzdul. It was hard, not being able to mentally speak with Lobelia and Bifur, though. Their lack of mental links didn’t allow for Clover to talk to them as easily as she might to another rider.

One of her many cousins (she had gone from having no family to too many family members to keep track of rather quickly), Paladin, was a potential rider and the two of them worked on her shields constantly. He and his girlfriend Eglantine (it was apparently like temporary mates only they didn’t actually mate) were older than what Clover looked, although she knew they were technically younger than she was. Paladin was the one that helped her learn the hobbity ropes of the Shire. He didn’t find her questions stupid or call her slow for when she sounded out some words she couldn’t process mentally. Eglantine was sweet too. She helped Clover with her dresses.

“Lobelia gets the dwarven fashions because they last a little longer than hobbit ones. Why, blue was in just last week and now it’s out for pink.”

Eglantine’s dragon, Snap, had been hatched around the same time as Saphira and the two dragons played quite happily in the fields with Snap’s mother, Cora.

Eglantine’s Other, another cousin of Clover’s, Drogo, hung out with them often, acting as a voice of reason.

It was strange being with them all and being free to play. It had taken them all a while to get Clover to understand what it meant to have fun. Caspian had told her about games from when he was in the Shire, but that had all seemed like some weird make believe sort of thing. There were moments where the freedom caused some strange itch of anxiety—as though it would all suddenly disappear and she would wake up and be in the mines again under some dwarf after a failed mating.

But on those instances she would curl into Saphira and the others would give her a moment of peace and they would go off climbing trees and such.

There were also moments where Clover itched for movement. Not the playing that the hobbits did. She wanted to fight. The pits were something Clover had done often, she had been the best fighter, and now her world was filled with quiet lulls of silence instead of the pounding of rocks and the singing of metal and the squelch of blood. It was almost disorienting.

“ _You need a focus_ ,” Bifur told her when she signed this feeling to him. “ _Something to get your hands moving and your heart pumping_.”

 _What do you do?_ Clover signed.

“ _I make toys._ ” Clover made a face. “ _I’m not saying that’s what you should do._ ”

_What should I do?_

Her uncle thought for a moment. He stood up and went over to his work desk and pulled out a scroll. “ _Your amad designed this. Or at least she was designing it, she never finished. Your… that dwarf was a rider and your mum always wondered what it would be like to fly without a dragon. Maybe you could finish something she wasn’t able to and see if you like doing it._ ”

Clover unrolled the scroll and looked at it. It was a suit of some kind. There were wing designs made to let the wearer fly. Interesting. _Can I try?_

“ _We’re family. I’m not going to try and stop you from spreading your wings._ ”

—

Clover didn’t hear from her Other all the time when she slept and it didn’t bother her too much. She’d lived through a lot without him and she would until they found each other. Clover wondered when they _would_ find each other. On the occasions that she and her Other did talk, Clover felt a sort of lightheadedness that came from a good fight or from those moments of sweet sleep she had earned in the mines.

They usually talked. Her shields were strong enough to do that now, but she couldn’t really see him as well as she should have been. He told her it was because they hadn’t formed their bond fully yet. That would happen when they officially met.

She learned his name was Fíli and that he was from Erebor. He’d lost a grandfather and his family would be in official mourning for a year. But that was all they talked about when it came to their personal lives. It was better to say those things face to face. Not from hundreds of miles away.

Either way, Clover slept easier knowing that Fíli was somewhere in Arda. Her Other, a friend that the Valar had made just for her, was out there and one day fate would bring them together.

—

Clover had been in the Shire for six months when it happened.

Six months for her to forget what she was.

Six months for Saphira to grow to the size of a smial and have a link of her own.

Six months for her to feel at home.

Six months to forget where she came from.

Six months to forget how she had been born in Moria.

—

“Master Bifur! Master Bifur!”

A faunt came running into Bag End, his face as white as death.

“What is it Samwise?” Lobelia asked gently as Clover looked up from her designs and Bofur ceased his tinkering.

“A falcon with a red ribbon came to the cages from the East. Orcs have attacked the caravan!” the boy cried.

In an instant, Bifur was up, grabbing his sword and axe. Clover jumped up top on instinct.

“ _You stay here,_ ” Bifur ordered before rushing out to join the Bounders and the stationed Ranger to head out.

 _What’s going on?_ Clover signed to Lobelia.

“Orcs are attacking a traveling caravan. They haven’t done that in a while. Decades actually.”

 _I want to help_.

“You’d get in their way, Clover.”

“Be, p’ea.”

Lobelia shook her head. “There’s nothing you can or should do, Clover. You’re a kid in age, only fifty. This isn’t your fight.”

The older dwobbit turned and continue her work.

Clover looked out the window, biting her lip. She’d fought orcs before. She’d killed a few in the pit before. She could help. She should help.

‘ _Saphira?_ ’ Clover reached out to her dragon.

‘ _What is it? What’s happening? Some of the Bounders’ dragons are leaving?_ ’

‘ _Orcs are attacking a caravan._ ’ For a long moment, her dragon didn’t answer her. ‘ _Saphira?_ ’

‘ _Wasn’t Paladin in that caravan? Snap’s fretting about it._ ’

Clover’s heart felt like it stopped. She rushed out of the smial, taking her old sword with her, and towards the dragon’s field. The dwobbit reached for Eglantine. ‘ _Was Paladin in that caravan?_ ’

‘ _Yes…_ ’

Clover could feel her friend’s sadness reverberate through her chest. She reached out to Drogo, brushing against his shields and he opened them for her quickly.

‘ _She says she can’t reach him._ ’

‘ _I’ll bring him back, I promise!_ ’

‘ _Wait—Clover do—_ ’

Clover shut her shields to her friend and called for Saphira as she ran into the field. Her dragon was bigger than her fellow hatchlings. There weren’t many dwobbit dragons who lived in the Shire. Most of them lived in Ered Luin, the Iron Hills, Erebor, or simply traveled. She and Clover had barely begun to learn how to ride.

It didn’t matter. Paladin needed them.

Saphira landed close to her and Clover climbed on, shifting her feet into the straps of the saddle. ‘ _Let’s go._ ’

Saphira spread her feathery wings and lifted off. Clover was still getting used to the swoop that happened in her stomach at the sudden movement but she shook it off quickly. They needed to go East. They needed to get there quickly.

‘ _When we get there, fall back and I’ll get a ride back from another dragon. We don’t know if there are fellbeasts. It’ll be safer for you to fall back._ ’

‘ _I’m not leaving you._ ’

They couldn’t argue. Not now. They needed to focus.

—

Clover had been in one-on-one fights before, but she had never been in a battle. The only one she had seen was the battle at the base of Moria and that had been far above it all. There were no fellbeasts, but Saphira did not leave. She wasn’t old enough to breathe fire yet, but she could roar and claw and snap.

Clover ran her sword through an orc and screamed as she slashed another one in the stomach.

` _Paladin!_ ’

She got no answer so she continued to fight. There were some bald dwarrow, their hair cut close to their head. Slaves who had become free and learned to play the game their old masters had laid out for them.

A blood red beard came into view and Clover’s blood ran cold.

His green eyes caught sight of Clover and she shivered. He grinned at her maniacally. “Hello Little One.”

Suddenly she was back underneath him as he took her painfully. She was back to being that little girl who just wanted her parents out of the mines. The little girl who still had dreams.

Clover rushed him and swiped at him with her sword, but he was fast. He had been a prized fighter after all. Their swords sung as they clashed against each other.

He would die this day.

“When I heard Lord Azog’s Little One had escaped with a dragon, I thought the stories were false,” he said as they battled. “It seems the stories are true.”

Clover’s sword connected with his cheek and slashed his beard and face.

“You’ll pay for that. But we always did like it rough.”

Clover roared and pushed him back and he fell back a few paces until he suddenly changed paces and pushed her back till she fell hard against the ground.

The dwarf smirked. “I can’t wait to make you mine again. Only this time it will be with a sword of steel.”

He raised his blade when an axe cracked into his skull and he slumped onto his knees.

Clover looked back and saw her uncle panting heavily. He rushed to her and grabbed her wrist, yanking her up. “ _Back to back!_ ” he ordered.

They fought until what remained were a few of the shaved dwarrow. “They’ll be sent to Ered Luin for trials,” the Ranger said. She shook her head. “Let their own people deal with them.”

They began to search through the remains of everyone. Clover called out to Paladin, hoping and praying that he was alright.

She found him under one of the wagons, fauntlings cowering under his arms. Clover sighed with relief. She motioned for them to come out, letting them know they were safe. They all shuffled out and the Bounders helped reunite them with their families that had made it. Luckily there had been only one casualty amongst the hobbits.

Paladin got up and looked Clover over. “You look like troll dung.” She promptly punched him in the arm. “Ow! What was that for?!”

‘ _Why didn’t you reply to Eglantine?!_ ’

Paladin grimaced and pulled up his bloodied shirt and showed he was, in fact, wounded. “I didn’t want her to feel this.” Clover punched his shoulder again. “Ow! What was that for?!”

‘ _For not saying you were injured!_ ’ Clover wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest.

He sighed and wrapped his arms around her. “It’s okay. We’re all safe now. Thank you.”

She’d been able to protect him, at least in a way. It was more than she had been able to for Caspian.

—

She needed to get stronger.

Even if Azog had died from his wounds, the mines of Moria were still open. People were still being taken from their families.

She needed to get stronger.

She hadn’t been the one to protect Paladin. She hadn’t been able to protect Caspian.

She needed to get stronger.

She refused to ever lose anyone ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in case anyone hasn’t caught it yet, Clover does not like when anyone calls her “little one”


	6. I Know of You but Only in Heart and Name

Whispers of a dragon rider began to spread across Arda. Orcrist and their rider Sting. The pair had become a scourge against the orca that had begun to make their way through the land in search of people to enslave. 

People said Sting could fly themselves. They said Sting had dragon’s blood. Some said they were once a slave of the mines of Moria and wished to free all those still left in bondage. A friend to the elves of Rivendell and the newly crowned king and queen of Gondor. 

Sting was a mystery. 

Kíli and Ori talked about the mysterious rider often. Fíli found it amusing, trying so very hard to not be intrigued by the rumors. 

“I heard Sting’s eyes are golden and they eat the flesh of their fallen foes!” Kíli said during their training. 

“I heard Sting is a princess,” Ori said. 

“Of what kingdom?” Fíli asked. “I can’t think of any race missing a princess.”

Kíli laughed as he dodged one of Fíli’s swings. 

“I heard that Sting lost their Other to the orcs and has sworn vengeance against them,” Kíli added. “I heard another rumor that they were once a slave.”

“It would explain why they knew where to go when freeing some of the slaves last month.”

News had spread throughout Arda when a minor portion of Moria had been released. Sting had snuck in and snuck out with over one hundred slaves. They supposedly had help from the Rangers, but it had been Sting that lead them to a part of the mines that housed many hobbits and their hobbit or dwobbit children. There had even been a few dwarrow amongst them. 

Fíli still couldn’t believe how many people had been rescued. A few of the dwarrow had come to Erebor and they spoke nothing but praise for the rider and their steed. 

The tale grew more exaggerated with every telling. 

Even so, at least someone was doing something. 

—

It had been a little over a year since Fíli first felt the connection to Clover. She was such an integral part of him now that he could barely remember a time when she wasn’t in his head. They had continued to talk through their bond, even if it hadn’t been fully stabilized yet. She told them of their dragon, whom she had named Saphira for her color. 

She did not tell him much about the nightmares that still occasionally plagued her. Fíli had asked her once where the dwarf who had done that to her was. She said that the one he saw was dead. The way she had worded it sent a shiver down his spine and he had wanted to ask more, but did not want to pry into more than she was willing to tell him. Some things were too intimate to share across a bond that had yet to be stabilized. 

She was not in Erebor, although they always had to check. She was not in the Iron Hills. She was not in Gondor or Rohan. She was not in Ered Luin. 

_ I’m coming for you _ , he told her the night before they made their way for the Shire. 

She had said nothing, but he could sense her happiness. It radiates from her and bled into their bond like sunlight. 

Fíli was excited to meet her officially, yet he was still nervous. Adrina was with them and he had yet to Recognize her. He had told her that Clover was a girl quickly after he had talked to Dwalin about how he handled having a dam as an Other and a different dam as his One. The conversation had felt easy coming from Dwalin’s end, but Fíli still wasn’t sure. 

He hoped Clover and Adrina would get along. 

He hoped that he Recognized Adrina soon. 

He wanted to Recognize her. He was certain she had Recognized him. His life was already complicated being the crown prince, his uncle’s heir. Couldn’t his relationships be simple. It’s all he asked the Valar for. 

—

Of course things couldn’t be simple. Of course. 

They were attacked on their way to the Shire. 

Orcs and a few of their dwarrow and dwobbit soldiers attacked. 

His parents fought upon their dragon, Ragnar. Briar was sweeping through the skies on her own steed, Rosebud. They spun and shrieked against the three fellbeasts that soared above the fight below. 

Fíli and the rest of the traveling party without dragons fought against the ground soldiers. Even with the way they were now, he knew they were outmatched, especially because Fíli had to think of someone else as he fought. 

He ordered Adrina to stay close to him. She clung helplessly to his back and he wished desperately that she knew how to actually fight or at least pick up a sword. It would be so much easier if Clover was there. 

They were losing. 

Fíli could hear Rosebud crying out in immense pain through their family link. Ragnar was screeching as a fellbeast snapped at his wing. The dwarrow fighting alongside him were being pushed down and back. 

He was going to die. 

He was going to die before he would even get to meet—

A roar sounded across the sky, joined by another. A dwobbit dragon and a hobbit dragon slammed into the fellbeasts. The dwobbit dragon clamped its jaws around the neck of the fellbeast and the hobbit dragon grabbed one of the .org riders and tossed them to the ground. The dwobbit dragon’s rider leapt from their saddle and suddenly they were falling and just as suddenly they were flying. They glided on the wind, zooming into the heat of the battle.

The rider wore a thick leather helmet that covered their face. Fíli had no more time to look as he was forced to continue to fight while protecting Adrina.

With the addition of the two dragons and their riders, the battle was able to be turned into the dwarrow party’s favor. The masked rider was the person to deal the final blow. Fíli could hear the labored pants under the rider’s helmet. They were female, that was certain. But why did she wear the masked helmet? What was there to hide?

Soon the other dragons and their riders landed. A male hobbit leapt off his dragon and swiftly knocked the masked rider in the head. 

“Ow!” she barked. 

“We were just supposed to be having a fun ride!”

The rider did not answer and just motioned to Fíli’s traveling party. 

“I don’t care! We could have…” the hobbit pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine. But go to Lobelia before she decides to punish both of us.”

The masked rider nodded and mounted her blue dragon. 

Wait…  _ blue _ . 

But then, she was gone. 

“Where is the other rider going?” Adrina asked the hobbit. 

He sighed in reply. “Sting’s just pouting. She does that occasionally. I swear to Yavanna she’s more stubborn a mountain troll.”

“That was Sting?” one of the dwarves guards gasped. 

“Well,” the hobbit shrugged. “That’s what the twins decided to call her. And it’s not for her sword skills, actually. It’s because you do not want to get on her bad side when she hasn’t slept enough. Her tongue… well, she’s got a sharp wit you don’t want to mess with.” He glanced to Briar, since she obviously had hobbit blood running through her veins. “Where are you headed?”

“The Shire,” Briar replied. “My nephew, Fíli,” she motioned towards him, “is here to meet his Other.”

The hobbit’s eyes widened. “You’re Fíli? Wow, Clover talks about you whenever she decides to stick around.” He held out his hand to Fíli and the prince took it. “I’m Drogo Baggins, Clover’s cousin. It’s an honor to meet you. We’ve all heard you were—shoot.”

“What?” Fíli blinked in confusion at the look that came into Drogo’s eyes. 

“Lobelia is going to be so mad.”

“You mentioned Lobelia before, who is that?”

“Clover’s cousin. She wanted Clover to look her very best when meeting you, but I guess that’s down the drain because of the fight.”

Then it clicked. “My Other is Sting?!”

“It’s not her name and she actually hates that nickname. I don’t think it matters if you’re her Other, she’ll flip you rather quickly if you call her that. She only tolerates the elves calling her that because they’re bigger than her.”

—

Fíli and the others were introduced to Clover’s cousin Lobelia and her father, a dwarf named Bifur. They bowed and curtsied to Briar and Fíli and Briar waves away the formalities quickly. 

“We’re family now, in a way,” Briar has said. “No need for all that.”

“Drogo,” Lobelia said with a warning tone that sounded eerily like Fíli’s mother when she caught him or Kíli doing something they weren’t supposed to. The hobbit froze. “Where’s Clover?”

Drogo turned around slowly. “I can call her, if you want.”

“That would be nice. How terribly did she fight?”

“It wasn’t that bad. She’s wearing her armor so—”

“She’ll need another bath,” Lobelia sighed. “Call her.” She looked to Briar. “I’m sorry, we wanted her to be presentable.”

Fíli’s aunt laughed. “It’s quite alright. If she and young Drogo here hadn’t come by we might have had casualties.”

Lobelia smiled. “That girl will always be wild. It’s her Took nature. And her growing up in the mines didn’t help.”

“Mines?” Fíli asked, his voice catching only slightly in his throat. 

Lobelia winced. “Her mother and the hobbit that helped raise her were taken by orcs as they made their way to Ered Luin. She… she escaped about a year ago with… well, with Saphira and… other things. It will be better for her to explain. It’s not really my place.” She looks up to the sky. “There she is.”

Saphira landed gracefully by the two much older dragons. Fíli’s heart began to pound in his chest. Saphira was Orcrist. Clover was Sting. He… Mahal, him being a prince was almost boring compared to that. 

Mahal… Saphira was only a year old. 

He was brought from his thoughts when he saw Clover dismount. She landed gracefully and pulled off her helmet. 

Something inside him seemed to click as a hammer seemed to pound into his chest. Then, their eyes met and all he could see was her. 

She smiled, a wide innocent smile. 

He swore silently to himself. 

Clover came toward him, still smiling. “Fí.”

Then her arms were around him as she nuzzled her face into his neck. 

Sh—

He Recognized her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we all knew it was going to happen.


	7. In My Own Way I Do Love You

Clover pulled away and smiled at her Other brightly. She couldn’t believe he was really here. Her Fíli. The person that would understand her and wouldn’t leave her like a One would. She hugged him one more time. Clover then stepped back to give him some space, she was about to sign something when Lobelia boxed her ears. 

“Ow, Be!”

“Don’t you ‘ _ ow, Be’ _ me,” her cousin said. “You need to clean yourself up.”

_ But he’s dirty too!  _ she signed. 

“Don’t take that tone with my young lady.”

“You can’t speak?” Fíli’s voice interrupted the blossoming argument. 

The two dwobbits looked at him. Clover shook her head and motioned for Lobelia to explain. 

“She can say a few things but she doesn’t have a tongue. She speaks to riders and potential ones using links and the rest of us with sign language.” Lobelia sighed. “Come on in, I’m certain you’re all hungry.”

—

Clover was properly introduced to some of Fíli’s important people. She met Fíli’s girlfriend, a beautiful dam named Adrina. She couldn’t understand signs and wasn’t a potential rider, so Fíli was the one to translate what she was thinking. This person was important to Fíli so Adrina would be important to Clover too. Then, she was introduced to Fíli’s aunt, Queen Briar, although the older dwobbit insisted that Clover just call her Briar. Clover loved her instantly. She wanted to know more about the dwobbit who had become queen of the dwarrow. 

“My husband, Thorin, has to stay in Erebor. You’ll meet him and Fíli’s uncle Frerin when you come to the mountain with us.”

“And this is my amad and adad,” Fíli said, motioning to his parents.

The dark haired dam smiled. “You can call us by our names as well. You’ll practically be a daughter to us. Just call me Dís and my husband, Víli.”

Thorin. Frerin. Dís. 

_ “Give these to a dwarf named Thorin or Frerin or a dam named Dís. They’ll know what this is. Tell them their father gave you this. They’ll look after you.” _

“Ah!” Clover shot up from where she was sitting. She’d taken them off because she was taking a bath and didn’t know if they could rust. The young dwobbit rushes to her room and grabbed the necklace that held the ring and the key and her little clover charm. She opened the chain and got the key and ring off. She put her necklace back on then ran back to the sitting room. She rushed to stand before Fíli’s mother. Clover held out her fist that held the key and small ring. “G...ive you,” she forced out, not thinking to ask for a link.

Dís blinked up at her and opened her large hand. Clover dropped the key and ring into Dís’ palm. The dam’s eyes widened. “Where did you get this?”

_ Dragon rider in Moria. Said to give it to dwarves names Thorin, Frerin, or a dam named Dís. He said he was your father,  _ she signed, now that her hands were free. 

“So he was in Moria,” Dís whispered. “Is… where…?”

_ His dragon was Saphira’s amad. He was very kind.  _

“Do you know if he’s still there?”

Clover shook her head.  _ He…  _ No one would want to know.  _ He didn’t want me to turn back.  _

—

The bonding process between Others was apparently a very private thing, especially for dwarrow. It was meant only for the pair and their dragon. So, Clover took Fíli on a flight with Saphira to a private place where they would not be disturbed. 

_ ‘It is strange having two riders,’  _ Saphira mused as they flew.

Fíli sat behind her, his arms locked around her waist. They would have to make new straps for him to wear. She wondered if she could make him a flying suit too or if his dwarves build would hinder him.  _ ‘We’ll get used to it, Fira.’ _

_ ‘I have a question,’  _ Fíli entered their growing link cautiously. 

Clover liked hearing his voice and being able to put a face to a name. He was warm like her dreams were. Her Other. Her other half that would be by her side. A friend who would never leave her. 

_ ‘Shoot,’  _ she said, leaning her head back slightly to rest on his chest and to look up at his chin. The beard was weird. Her uncle was the only one who really had a beard in the Shire. And his was much longer. Maybe it was a dwarven mourning thing. 

_ ‘Why did you become Sting and Orcrist?’ _

Clover rolled her eyes.  _ ‘I didn’t choose those names, the twins did because they thought it would be funny.’ _

His lips twitched slightly into a smile and Clover beamed. 

_ ‘That didn’t answer my question.’ _

Clover thought for a moment.  _ ‘I forgot for a moment. Living in the Shire, it’s easy to forget that bad things can happen. I forgot that I had been a slave. I forgot about my parents dying in those mines. I forgot the people still down there. I forgot and then I remembered. With every person I save, with every person I’m able to get out, they have hope and they have the knowledge that someone is remembering them.’ _

_ ‘We haven’t forgotten them,’  _ Fíli said carefully and Clover could sense him tending behind her. 

_ ‘Would your armies have come if the dragon rider hadn’t been captured?’ _

His arms tightened around her and she knew his answer and that he did not like it. Clover bunched the reins in one hand and then rested her free arm over one of his own. 

_ ‘I don’t blame you. It’s easy to forget when you have not lived it. You would want to forget. You would want to forget your parents growing old and dying of exhaustion. You would want to forget the people that died trying to care for you. You would want to forget the way your body was used for the enjoyment of others.’  _ His arms tightened and Clover laced her fingers with some of his.  _ ‘But I remembered the hope they would get when  _ someone  _ came to get them. Husbands getting their wives. Wives getting their husbands. Parents getting their children. Children getting their parents. It gave us all hope that, maybe someday, we would be free.’ _

Fíli held her tightly, his head resting at the juncture of her neck and shoulder.  _ ‘I’ll do whatever I can to help.’ _

Clover smiled and leaned into him, trusting that he spoke the truth. 

—

They landed in an open field. The sun had long since gone down and the moon shone brightly. Clover slid off Saphira’s back and helped Fíli down. 

_ ‘How do we do this?’  _ she asked. 

“Saphira, could you close your wings around us?” he looked to their dragon. “Then tuck your head under them and towards us.”

Their dragon did as she was told, stretching her feathered wings around them like a small tent and tucking her head in close to them, her warm breath fanning around them. Clover laughed as their hair rumpled. She had a single bead and braid in her hair, her uncle’s family claiming her as one do their own. Fíli’s hair was saved from being too rumpled with his more numerous braids and beads. 

He smiled at her again. “We hold hands and then we go into the blue space we usually share when we dream. This bonding goes very deep. Is there anything you want to tell me before we go in?”

Clover thought for a moment.  _ ‘I don’t believe in Ones.’ _

His eyes widened for a moment and his hands tightened around hers. “What?”

_ ‘My adad told my mum she was his One and he left. I don’t mind other people having and being happy with their Ones, so Adrina doesn’t bother me. I just believe in One for myself.’ _

“Adrina isn’t—I haven’t recognized her yet,” Fíli fumbled. 

Clover shrugged.  _ ‘Regardless, I won’t stop you from being with your One. Just know I’ll always be on your side,’  _ she joked. Fíli’s hands tightened around hers.  _ ‘And you?’ _

He was quiet for a moment. “Not really.”

_ ‘Shall we?’ _

Fíli nodded. “Close your eyes.”

She did as she was told and Clover felt him press his forehead to hers. Then, she felt herself beginning to sink into the blue nothingness, something inside her singing. 


	8. You Are a Fool to Not See

Kíli woke to his brother practically flinging himself onto their shared bed. The young prince threw a pillow at his brother in annoyance but could sense something wrong so withheld throwing another, more heavy, object. 

“You okay?”

“I Recognized her,” Fíli said, turning onto his back. 

“Who? Adrina? Congrats.”

“I Recognized Clover.”

_ That  _ got Kíli to sit up. “Excuse me?”

Fíli sighed and covered his eyes. “Clover’s my one.”

Kíli let that information sink in. “So… are you going to break up with Adrina then?”

“Clover doesn’t believe in Ones.”

“Just because she didn’t Recognize you right away doesn’t mean—”

“She doesn’t  _ believe  _ in Ones. Or, at least, she has a very low opinion of them.”

“Okay…?”

“We’ve barely bonded, how in Mahal’s name am I supposed to do this?”

“Break up with Adrina for one thing.”

“I can’t do—”

“Yes you can.” Kíli made his way closer to his brother. “Honestly, I know you think she’s Recognized you, but you don’t know that. And it’s obvious now that you won’t Recognize her. It’s cruel to string her along if she hasn’t Recognized you and she keeps hoping you both will or she has Recognized you and keeps hoping you will too. You’ve been on the fence about her for a while now.”

“But she’s—”

“Don’t say she’s perfect. No one is perfect. Except An because she kicks my butt every time I try to tell her so.”

His girlfriend had a fiery temper that matched her hair. She put up with no stupidity because she knew he was better than that. They were lucky since they had Recognized each other almost simultaneously. People hadn’t liked it since her family was a bunch of miners from Ered Luin, but she was a healer in training and wasn’t afraid of speaking her mind. It’s one of the many things Kíli loved about her. 

“This isn’t the time or place to boast about your own love life.”

Kíli sighed. “I’m just saying. Adrina isn’t a Valar, she's mortal like the rest of us.”

“I’ve been with her for so long.”

“That’s mainly your fault.” Kíli shook his head. “We all told you not to, well, you know.”

“I know.”

“Obviously you didn’t because you’ve been dating her for a while and even brought her on this when she didn’t really have to come.”

“She  _ wanted  _ to come.”

“You didn’t have to let her.”

Sometimes Kíli wondered if his brother was just  _ too  _ nice. 

—

Kíli had to admit he rather liked Clover and was very certain An would like her too. 

She was tomboyish and and didn’t have a sense of physical boundaries, but she did everything with determination and an amount of stubbornness that his uncle would be impressed by. At the same time Kíli could tell that she was rather self conscious of being surrounded by royals. 

She was a living legend herself now and she seemed awestruck by his Aunt Briar every time they talked.

His aunt had taken the girl under her wing and was already teaching her some proper etiquette since she would have some duties as the crown prince’s Other. If Kíli’s aunt knew that there was something on Fíli’s end of his bond with Clover, she didn’t say anything, but she usually had a knack of figuring that stuff out. 

Kíli would never be able to properly tell his brother that he preferred Clover over Adrina, even without the whole One business. 

He liked Adrina well enough, but he felt like Fíli made too many excuses for her. 

Adrina wasn’t mean, per say, but she was well aware of how much influence she had in the mountain as the crown prince’s girlfriend. She influenced fashion and beauty standards of people around their age and her family was influential by themselves. An told him that it wasn’t that Adrina was necessarily mean, but the two wouldn’t really be friends if they didn’t have the Durin’s in common. 

It worried Kíli, but Adrina hadn’t done anything to make him really dislike her. 

He hoped that his brother would figure everything out soon. 

—

I miss you, An. 

_ She rolled her eyes but continued to lean against him in the warm green expanse of their bond. He could never keep himself away from her for long, especially when he knew he was safe in the Shire.  _

So,  _ she asked,  _ what’s Fíli’s Other like?

You’d like her. She’s a lot like Aunt Bri, really. 

Then I’ll definitely like her. 

_ Kíli thought for a moment before deciding he couldn’t really hide it through their bond.  _

She’s Fíli’s One too. 

_ An leaned away from him and looked at him with wide eyes.  _ Really?

Yeah, but he doesn’t know what to do about Adrina since Clover doesn’t believe in Ones. 

_ An frowned.  _ Wouldn’t Clover feel the Recognition through the bond?

_ Kíli shook his head.  _ Recognized her before he bonded. 

Ah.  _ She sighed.  _ Is he not going to break up with Adrina then?

I’m trying to convince him that it’s for the best. You don’t have to marry your One, but I can already tell that he’s gone on her. 

This will be difficult then,  _ An said.  _

Yeah. 

_ They stayed there for a while. _

We’ll figure it out, or at least they will.  _ An smirked.  _

_ Kíli smirked right back.  _ Mahal, I miss you. 

Miss you too. 

_ He kissed her tenderly on the lips and they stayed in the content lull of their bond.  _

—

They flew back towards Erebor. 

Because Saphira was still on the smaller side, Clover was the only one who rode her for a majority of the journey, although Fíli rode her a couple of times when they rested. In those moments, Clover would sit with Kíli and they would talk. While his aunt and amad weren’t watching, he would teach Clover a few swear signs where she practically cackled while learning them. 

_ I don’t appreciate you corrupting my Other, Kí,  _ Fíli said through their link. 

Kíli just smirked and didn’t reply.

“Hey, Clove?”

“Hm?”

“Do you mind if I ask a vaguely awkward question?”

_ I could always just refuse to answer _ , she replied through their link. 

“True.” He paused. “Why don’t you have a tongue?”

She blinked but didn’t seem bothered by it.  _ It’s not uncommon for parents to cut their child’s tongue when they get a little older and into the babbling phase. I barely remember having a tongue. Guards don’t hit you as often if you can’t talk back. And kids and tweens talk back a lot because all that is normal to them so the orcs aren’t so scary. _

Kíli’s chest tied itself in a knot. “You don’t think orcs are scary?”

_ They are, but they didn’t bother us much when we were small. And I was small for a long time.  _

Kíli remembered that both her parents, or at least her mother and the hobbit that had fathered her, had both been hobbits. It must have been hard to age so slowly while her parents grew older. 

“Hey, Clove?”

“Hm?”

“How old are you?”

_ Forty.  _

**Author's Note:**

> Come see me on tumblr at fromtheboundlesssea
> 
> feel free to message me about anything! I even have mood boards (of sorts) to my fics!


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